The Glass Queen

by Gena Showalter

  Standing at six foot tall, she had shoulder-length hair as blue as my wings. The board-straight locks framed an arresting face with black eyes, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and skin a shade lighter than mine. She wore the uniform of an elite soldier in the avian army: a leather vest with mesh cutouts around vital organs, and black leather pants. The hilts of two short swords rose from her shoulders, alongside the bright pink wings she’d always despised.

  Childhood traumas that had never healed properly suddenly throbbed. The betrayal of my parents...this loss of my siblings... “Has something happened?” I demanded without releasing Ashleigh. At the moment, she was my only anchor in the firestorm.

  Tempest swept her glare over the princess. “I came to warn you. Mother is on her way. She heard about your fascination with the princess and fears the past is repeating itself.”

  I worked my jaw, my mood hitting irate and about to return to anger.

  “Hello,” Ashleigh said to Tempest, and I applauded her fortitude. “I’m Princess Ashleigh of Fleur. It’s nice to see you again, Princess Tempest.”

  My sister didn’t spare her a second glance. “Do me a favor, brother, and tell your pet to hush or—”

  “You will hush,” I interjected with enough force to startle both females. “Go to my tent and await me there.” I lifted my hand and snapped my fingers, summoning Adriel.

  “I don’t think you understand,” Tempest groused. “Mother is going to arrive within the hour.”

  And the hits keep coming. I scoured a hand down my face in an attempt to calm. I wasn’t prepared to deal with Queen Raven yet. I’d experienced too many upheavals these past few weeks, starting with the deaths of my father and brother and the expectation that I would assume control of the kingdom from which I’d once fled. There was the loss of Roth’s palace—my true home—Farrah’s betrayal and curse, the return of Leonora, and Ashleigh’s unexpected charm.

  While Queen Raven couldn’t concretely know Ashleigh was Leonora, she did suspect. My suspicions had just been confirmed. She’d attended the funeral, and she’d heard about the fire, and she’d suspected Ashleigh’s role in my life.

  And you still believe she didn’t send those soldiers to hurt Ashleigh at the Temple?

  The Raven I’d known always delivered her blows herself. But I’d never really known her, had I? I’d never thought her capable of watching her husband attempt to kill her son, either.

  “How long is she planning to stay?” I demanded.

  “Six days. She doesn’t trust her advisors to lead the avian without her for longer than that.”

  I swung my gaze back to Ashleigh. “I will speak with your father. I want you to remain in the palace for the next six days. You are not to leave it for any reason. This time, you will obey me.”

  “Six days? Saxon, I swear I’m not going to harm your family.”

  She misunderstood, but I wasn’t going to correct her. “Nevertheless. You will stay inside.”

  Tempest snorted. “As if you could harm me, little girl.”

  “You will go to my tent and await Mother,” I told my sister. “Tonight, I have plans.” Plans I would see through. Since I wouldn’t be seeing Ashleigh for the next six days, I would have to end our night with a punishment, after all.

  Always follow through. I couldn’t have Leonora thinking I’d softened.

  Adriel approached at last, a feather floating from his wing, drawing Ashleigh’s gaze to where he hovered. She shrank against me, as if I were a hero. A protector. I found my chin lifting proudly—there was no one stronger or better able to defend her.

  Follow. Through.

  “Escort my sister to my tent,” I told the soldier, who stayed far away from Ashleigh and never glanced her way.

  Resentment vibrated from Tempest, but she pivoted and stalked off without protest. Avian were nothing if not loyal to their leader. Adriel followed from the air, his broken legs hanging limply.

  “Hey,” Ashleigh said, her tone gentle. She rested her fingertips against my stubbled jawline and softly urged my attention back to her. “I’m drunk on the night, remember, so I can do this.”

  Now that we’d started touching, we weren’t going to be able to stop, were we?

  “I don’t know what happened between you and your family that hurt you so badly,” she continued, “but I’m sorry for that, too.”

  She comforts me still? Me? I dipped my forehead to her shoulder, and she combed her fingers through my hair.

  The worst of my mental chaos quieted, as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be, doing what I was supposed to be doing, with the girl I was supposed to be with. The one who belonged to me. The one I belonged with.

  It was a lie, of course. But, in that moment, it was a lie I desperately wanted to believe.

  “What makes you think I’m hurting?” Few people ever saw past my unending anger.

  “Let’s just say the lost glaze in your eyes is familiar to me.”

  Did she encounter it every time she peered into a mirror?

  My chest did that tightening thing again, guilt flaring anew. “If you seek my pity—”

  “I don’t. I really don’t. I sympathize with you, that’s all.”

  Or she thought to trick me into softening, the same way Leonora had so often tricked Craven, and I was letting her win yet again.

  I stiffened. “Save your sympathy. Tonight, I will have a measure of restitution.”

  She pursed her lips. “What’s it going to be this time? Hmm? Do tell.”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Yes, I guess I will.” Animosity draining, she offered me a broken smile, and it was a thousand times worse than tears or fury. As if she’d been trampled so many times, her heart had developed calluses, and yet she pitied me. “I haven’t ever had a friend, not really, and I’ve interacted with very few people in my life, but I have observed many. Whether you deny it or not, your sister’s visit threw you. You’re hurting, and you’re lashing out at me. But, darling that I am, I’ve decided not to demand restitution for your rudeness. So let’s get this over with.”

  Let’s. Before I lost my resolve. My chest was now on fire, and she hadn’t needed magic to ignite the flames.

  I tightened my hold and jumped up with her still in my arms, flaring my wings and catching a current of air. As we rose high...higher, I angled us in the proper direction.

  Other avian leaped into the air, giving chase to act as my guard. About twenty in total. Only half were mine. The other half must have come with Tempest. Let them follow. Let them see.

  I carried Ashleigh toward the coliseum, wind whipping her dark locks in every direction. When I rolled around a cloud, she laughed and spread out her arms, drawing a smile from me, which hastened the return of my scowl.

  I couldn’t allow her to affect me anymore. It had to stop.

  After today’s battle, I’d spoken with Everly about Adriel’s treatment of Ashleigh. I’d then instructed one group of soldiers to fly over the competition field once all the spectators had left and another group to surround the place with torches. Neither group had abandoned their post. The flyers still swooped over the field in circles, their feathers floating to the ground, illuminated by a haze of flickering golden light that radiated from nearby torches. A storm I’d had created for Adriel, to really drive my lesson home. I’d planned to make him pick up every feather by sunrise, while standing, dealing with his healing legs.

  Instead, Ashleigh would get the honors. “You will pick up the feathers,” I told her as I set her on her feet. “Every single one. There should be bags scattered over the ground.”

  I expected protests. Complaints. Something. Again, she surprised me. She brightened.

  “Tell me you’re teasing. Because, Saxon?” she said, the sides of her mouth actually lifting, “this is just too terrible. I’m going to rue the day
I was ever born and probably suffer with nightmares for the rest of eternity.” She faked a shudder. “Whatever you do, don’t tell me I have to keep the prettiest feathers. Please. Don’t make me suffer such an indignity, or I’ll be forced to demand some kind of restitution myself.”

  I...had no idea how to respond to that. “Do you feel you deserve restitution, Ashleigh?” My curiosity was genuine.

  “Yes. I thought I’d made that clear. But really, I don’t think I need it. I’m pretty sure you’re already punishing yourself.” That said, she skipped across the field as if she hadn’t a care, gathering feathers along the way, leaving me to reel.

  She was proving to be so much more of everything than I’d ever dreamed possible. Wittier. Kinder. Smarter. Far more resilient. Mostly, she was utterly enchanting, rousing my keenest desires.

  With a squeal, she held up a feather as if it were a treasure, so happy it almost hurt to look at her. So happy over something so simple. “This one matches my eyes.”

  Leonora hadn’t reacted so enthusiastically for diamonds.

  I scowled. Hoping distance would grant me some kind of inoculation against her allure, I flew into a shadowed section of the stands and leaned against a pillar, crossing my arms over my chest.

  The distance didn’t help. Like most avian, I could see great distances quite clearly, and I remained on edge as I watched the princess work.

  For the first hour, she gathered as many feathers as possible into a pile and stuffed her favorite colors into the bodice of her dress. The second hour, she tired and her motions slowed. All the while new feathers rained down.

  She welcomed every shower, putting back her head and lifting her arms.

  How many times had I imagined laughing in her face as she failed at each task I assigned her? How often had I anticipated my enjoyment over her constant defeat? I experienced no such amusement or enjoyment tonight. Only a fresh rise of guilt. She was right, then. By punishing her, I was punishing myself. It was the most unfair trade in history.

  As she eased onto the sandy ground and lifted her skirts, she revealed two sticks she’d strapped to her thigh. She tied each end of the ribbon to the end of a stick, creating a tiny rake. Leaning over, she scooted multiple feathers her way.

  My princess was intrepid, I’d give her that. This was strength of wit in action. She was always strength of wit in action, using every tool at her disposal, making the best of bad situations—bad situations I put her in.

  I massaged the back of my neck, considering our last conversation. She believed herself to be Cinder. Though I hadn’t changed my mind about the tales, I had to admit she reminded me of the prophesied character more and more.

  Farrah used to say the more love a heart contained, the stronger it was. Right now, I had to agree. When it came to action versus emotion, the emotion behind the action mattered more.

  A gift given in hate meant nothing. Give the same gift with love, and it meant everything. Leonora gave to get. Ashleigh gave to give. How very Cinder.

  And fast as wind? That was how quickly this potential little cinder girl had tied me in knots. Unwilling to bend? No one fit such a description better than Ashleigh. She flittered about, making me crazed, and I did the bending for her.

  A cool breeze kissed the back of my neck, scattering my thoughts. Someone approached from behind. I reached for a dagger, preparing for an attack. When the scent of lilacs wafted my way, I didn’t have to turn to know who’d just arrived.

  My tone flat, I said, “Hello, Mother.”

  12

  There’s only one feat that matters.

  Did you leave his heart in tatters?

  Ashleigh

  As I sat in the sea of feathers, raking the multicolored bounty into a large pile before separating the green ones into an even larger pile of their own and shoving all the rest into a bag, I twittered with excitement. I thought—hoped—I’d collected enough of the green ones to embellish a gown. I would look like I belonged at Saxon’s side, not at his beck and call.

  My ears twitched as voices wafted on a cool evening breeze. I thought I heard Saxon arguing with a woman about...duty? They were so far away, I had trouble making out every individual word, but whatever the topic, he was in full-on Craven mode, furious but controlled.

  I scanned the rest of the field. So many feathers, so little time. But, uh, for a reincarnate of Craven the Destroyer, Saxon sure didn’t know how to oversee a proper punishment. Picking up feathers as they blustered like snowflakes? The horror! What would he tell me to do next? Search for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow?

  Why had he danced with me? Why had he held me so tightly, as if he couldn’t bear to part with me? Why had he looked at me with longing? Why had he allowed me to comfort him after his sister’s visit? Why had I tingled and ached for closer contact...a deeper touch...a kiss? A kiss. My first. From Saxon.

  Only one answer made sense. His character was as literal as mine, rather than symbolic. Saxon Skylair was my fairy-tale prince, and he had found his Cinder tonight. My certainty could not be shaken. Not anymore.

  We were fated to experience a happily-ever-after.

  Had I realized this yesterday, I would not have seen a way for it to happen. Tonight, he’d ordered me to remain at the palace for six days, just to protect me from his mother. He cared about my well-being.

  I loved his concern. I did. But I shuddered at the thought of being housebound. Having spent years trapped in a bed, then a cluster of trees...having tasted freedom for the first time at the party, I hated the thought of being cooped up in the palace. Give me fresh air, moonlight, starlight, firepits, and wide-open spaces.

  A sudden pain tore through my head, spurring a hiss. I clutched my temples, but the ache had already started to fade.

  In the back of my mind, I thought I heard a woman purr happily, as if she, too, were experiencing fresh air and open spaces for the first time.

  What the—a terrible heat flared in my fingertips, and I waved my hands about, trying to cool them off. But I continued to heat until...

  An actual flame ignited at the ends of my nails, disintegrating the feathers I held. I sucked in a breath, staring at the charred remains, unable to make my brain work. But, but...

  The embers spread over the sands. With a gasp, I contorted to snuff them out with my feet. Finally, my brain decided to work again, thoughts aligning. I’d started a fire? I’d used magic? I’d used... Leonora’s magic?

  Tension shot through me, ice-cold and sharp as a blade. Trembling, I lifted my hands to examine my fingers in a brighter beam of torchlight. Was that a smear of soot? I cast my gaze to the ground where pieces of feather ash had fallen. Grains of sand had turned to liquid before hardening into smooth, cool glass.

  The truth settled in my bones, changing the very fabric of my being. I had used Leonora’s magical ability. I was a reincarnate or possessed by a phantom. But either way...

  Doomed.

  A humorless laugh escaped. Suddenly, I understood why my mother had taken me to Milo’s father so often. The potion had provided a barrier. A mystical barrier I could have re-created if Milo hadn’t burned the warlock’s journals.

  Another pain in my head. —Isn’t this nice? The barrier has thinned so much, we can speak.—

  A woman’s smug voice whispered through my mind. Shocking, yes. But the real head-scratcher? The mental invasion hadn’t felt odd, but rather astonishingly familiar, as if the speaker had been there all along, just waiting for the perfect time to surprise me.

  “Leonora?” I whispered.

  —The one and only. And oh, how wonderful it feels to be heard by you. So many times I’ve wanted, no, needed to complain about your behavior. You’re ruining my life.—

  Her life? Hers?

  If she said more, I missed it. Images were forming in my mind, colors flaring behind my eyes. Then a memory of the p
ast consumed me utterly...

  * * *

  I lounged in bed with Craven, naked but for the ring he’d gifted to me as a show of our great love. My body lay draped over his, his warm breath fanning the top of my head as I traced circles over his heart.

  A heart he’d ceded to me.

  We’d been a couple for months, but we’d had so many fights. We were unable to agree about the smallest things. But that wasn’t my fault. I was training him to be what I needed him to be—fully devoted to my pleasure.

  Training for anything required hard work and dedication. That was just a fact. The end result would make it all worth it, however.

  Now I had to turn my efforts to teaching him to put my needs before his family’s. Earlier today, I’d heard his horrid mother advising him to wed an elven princess and keep me as his mistress. So of course his mother would be dying by sunset. Anyone who threatened my happiness lost their breathing privileges. I planned to wed Craven. Me. I was his fated, the one made for him, and no one else was allowed to have him.

  My fairy tale guaranteed he would be mine forevermore.

  I would take his name and the title that came with it. Queen Leonora. I would bear his children. The things he made me feel...everything I’d ever craved. I couldn’t live without him, not ever again, and I wasn’t going to try.

  As he toyed with a lock of my red hair, I relaxed against him. He would never do as his mother asked and cast me out. He would wed me—nothing else was acceptable. “Craven,” I breathed.

  “Yes, Nora.”

  I loved the nickname he’d given me. But...had he sounded strained? “Do you love me?”

  “You know I do.”

  See. Mine. I lifted my head to meet his sleepy gaze. “Why haven’t you offered me the ceremonial marriage bracelet?” I had a surprise for him as soon as he did. I’d found a dragon egg I planned to share with him. “Don’t you want to cement our bond?”